CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Arquesta, replying to Voadam's query regarding the rats, smiles and says, "Oh, no, they and I are both caught in a Vaati curse, only they seem to've suffered the worse of it. They were but children when they were polymorphed. And Felix always dearly loved a bit of egg with his breakfast. He's no different now, as a ratling. In fact, each of them seems to have retained a small quirk of personality innate to them as children. Perhaps the polymorphing didn't completely take?" Arquesta, who had been looking down on the brass cage with an affectionate smile, looks up at Voadam with curiosity as if he might know the answer. "As to you, good goblin and kobold, woefully, no, this city isn't known to be friendly to non-humans. You must either have good friends," and here Arquesta glances around the table, smiling especially at Brakkus, "or be very skilled at hiding. Or both, perhaps."
Platters of hot food arrive on three large wooden trays. One platter is sauced brown mushrooms, another has sliced portions of moist rotisserie pork shoulder glazed with cinnamon, and a third platter with a bowl-like lip around the edge bears plums stewed in wine and sugar. Mistress Buttonslow, her apron a prim and spotless white, delivers the food herself with a wink at Arquesta and a smile of welcome for the others. Ale, for those who want it, comes in clay tankards from a tap at the bar and is poured by Master Buttonslow and served by a girl, a child really, who by her look and hair must surely be his daughter.
Arquesta places some mushrooms on her plate and chews thoughtfully. "I knew when I saw it that things were afoot. Danian healed the slice I gave myself quickly enough, and he already knew the thing's word of power--amazing, that one's power of mind when he puts himself to the fire. Seeing it up close confirmed my suspicion. And now, today, you arrive. Which of you has it?" Arquesta leans in and looks around with suspicion, as if trying to detect some effect or another on the faces and person of those gathered.
The woman does sport a pink scar on her left forearm. The scar is hidden beneath two layers of silks, but was visible to those who looked when the gypsy woman reached up to mount Chop Liver back in the market place.
Platters of hot food arrive on three large wooden trays. One platter is sauced brown mushrooms, another has sliced portions of moist rotisserie pork shoulder glazed with cinnamon, and a third platter with a bowl-like lip around the edge bears plums stewed in wine and sugar. Mistress Buttonslow, her apron a prim and spotless white, delivers the food herself with a wink at Arquesta and a smile of welcome for the others. Ale, for those who want it, comes in clay tankards from a tap at the bar and is poured by Master Buttonslow and served by a girl, a child really, who by her look and hair must surely be his daughter.
Arquesta places some mushrooms on her plate and chews thoughtfully. "I knew when I saw it that things were afoot. Danian healed the slice I gave myself quickly enough, and he already knew the thing's word of power--amazing, that one's power of mind when he puts himself to the fire. Seeing it up close confirmed my suspicion. And now, today, you arrive. Which of you has it?" Arquesta leans in and looks around with suspicion, as if trying to detect some effect or another on the faces and person of those gathered.
The woman does sport a pink scar on her left forearm. The scar is hidden beneath two layers of silks, but was visible to those who looked when the gypsy woman reached up to mount Chop Liver back in the market place.
